


Chocolate and Small Talk

by Mandibles



Series: Scerek Week [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Halloween, IT'S ALMOST SIX IN THE MORNING, Kissing, M/M, Unofficial First Date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:26:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandibles/pseuds/Mandibles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scerek Week, Day Two: First Date / First Kiss. Continuation of October 31st. Derek finds himself on Scott's couch, eating chocolate and watching Ginger Snaps. Sloppy makeouts happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate and Small Talk

Derek’s pretty sure he’s completely lost his mind. Following a grinning Scott around the corner store as he clears the shelves of their remaining Butterfingers and Skittles and Twixes is crazy enough; paying for the lot of it when Scott breaks into a sweat at the cost of two bags worth of candy is even crazier. The craziest part, though, is how Derek lets Scott drag him to his house, into his living room with the promise of blankets and heat and a shit ton of shitty movies. Derek doesn’t want to—or, rather, doesn’t want to admit he wants to—but, he falls victim to puppy eyes and a crooked grin and—fuck.

Now he’s curled up at one end of the couch, a scratchy wool blanket grudgingly pulled across his lap while the screen goes red with jelly-like blood.

It’s crazy as fuck.

. . . But, not necessarily _bad_.

Scott flashes an easy smile around a chocolate bar when he drops onto the couch and folds himself comfortably, legs crossing beneath him. The chocolate breaks with a crack and through chews, he says, “So. Better than Lydia’s party, right?”

A million times better, Derek’s sure, but he only gives a noncommittal shrug. Instead of pouting, though, Scott smiles, _laughs_ , like he understands, like he knows him, like a month ago they weren’t—literally—at each other’s throats, like they’re friends, family. Derek’s mind reels, spirals, and he knows he must be reading too much into it, but when Scott rifles into one of the bags between them and tosses a Milky Way, he considers offering a tight strand of hope in return.

“Thanks,” he tries, the word coming as more of a question. Scott either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, because he’s too busy laughing at the screen when the channel announces the next movie— _Ginger Snaps_. He nudges Derek like they have some inside joke—which, perhaps, they do—and it feels like those Halloween nights when Laura did the same at every cheap, furry mask she laid eyes on.

For some reason the parallel doesn’t—doesn’t hurt. In fact, Derek finds himself smiling faintly to himself as he bites into the candy bar, his first taste of sugar since before he can remember. He’d almost forgotten the taste of chocolate, sweet on his tongue; he’s lost in that, and their comfortable silence, as the movie starts.

That is until Scott clears his throat once the opening scene rolls out, wringing his blanket—a fluffy one—in his hands.

“So, you’re dating someone, huh?” Derek’s whips his head in alarm; Scott only shrugs casually. “I mean, earlier you smelled like—yeah.”

Derek’s stomach sinks.

“You don’t have to tell me! I was just, you know, curious. Making small talk—”

“I don’t.”

That gives Scott pause. He tears his attention away from the screen and they just look at each other for a beat. Then, “You don’t what?”

“Have someone,” Derek clarifies slowly, troubled by the startled, confused pinch of Scott’s face.

“Then, who—”

“I don’t know. I don’t know them.”

“Oh.” Scott’s brows scrunch, then relax in realization. “ _Oh_. Shit, really? You—Really?”

Derek snorts in at Scott’s sudden awe. “Is it that big of a deal?”

“Yes—no—I don’t know? It’s just . . . weird, I guess.”

“’Weird’?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know?”

More questions are being raised than answered and Derek raises an eyebrow; Scott only shrugs with his usual dopey smile. That’s cue enough to return to the movie playing, though they manage only a few minutes before Scott speaks again. Blurts, really.

“Did you kiss them?”

Derek freezes mid-chew, fingers threatening to drop the Milky Way. “What?”

“The person you—yeah, you know. Did you kiss them?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just making small talk.”

“That’s not small talk.”

Scott offers a brief, brief side-glance before breaking in self-deprecating laughter. “Wow, look at me making things awkward. Sorry.”

That doesn’t stop Derek from pressing, repeating, demanding, “Why do you want to know?”

Brown eyes dart, search his, and then Scott’s licking his lips. “I guess I just want to know what’s like to be with someone you don’t love,” he says quietly.

That breaks something in Derek, because Scott? He knows that Allison was Scott’s only, just was Kate was his. Despite how Scott has grown in the past few months—and he has grown, Derek’s seen that—he’s still sixteen, still a child, and he reminds him so, so much of himself, caught by a pretty Argent, that it hurts him, terrifies him. And, that’s what Derek tells Scott.

“It was strange,” Derek admits. He feels Scott’s eyes burning through him, but keeps his own sight trained to the television screen. “Scary, even.”

“But, you did it anyway?”

Derek nods.

“Why?”

Because he was fucking _lonely_.

A pause, a shrug. “I don’t know. It felt good?”

Scott’s line of vision shifts and Derek’s finally able to exhale, ease his shoulders. Biting his lip, swallowing tightly, Scott continues to press in hushed tones, “So, what if you knew the person? What if you didn’t really like them, but you didn’t really hate them either? Would you do it, then?”

Derek frowns deeply. “I don’t think I’m the person you should be asking—” Plastic bags crinkle, candy bars break, as Scott leans over to him. He’s so close Derek can see the determination, defiance, in his eyes, the smudge of chocolate on his lip, and when did things take this wrong, wrong turn? “Scott—”

Scott shushes him, tentative hands cupping his face as he hovers closer. “Just—Just let me—can I—” Derek’s heart leaps into his throat when sticky lips brush across his own, catch on them, and it takes everything he has to not scramble away. That only pushes Scott to deepen the kiss, his eyes fluttering shut as his tongue slides across the seal of his mouth. Panicking, Derek lets his mouth drop open at the taste of chocolate, the feel of gummy nougat stuck on Scott’s teeth.

Hands grab, tug at Derek’s hair just as hands pull at Scott’s shoulders, dragging his shirt up. Scott crawls over him awkwardly, straddles him, presses him into the cushions beneath his weight, and Derek surges up with a growl, shifting the mood of the kiss. Their legs tangle, teeth clash, claws come out; scrunched noses and glowing eyes follow closely afterward.

“Derek,” Scott snarls against his cheek, lips and tongue dragging across skin. “Fuck, I—Derek—Fuck—” He gasps when claws pierce his sides, but that only makes his hips rock down.

Derek arches back and bares his teeth in a grimace. He huffs, “Don’t talk. Don’t fucking—Just shut up.”

Because this is Earth-shattering, universe-shifting on its own. He doesn’t need Scott’s input, too; he doesn’t need to know how he feels. That would make him _run_.

Certainly sharing the same sentiment, Scott complies by tearing Derek’s shirt into ragged shreds, gold eyes flaring with a ferocity that makes Derek choke, sink into the couch further. And, as Derek lets Scott have his way in frantic grinds and bursting pleasure, Kate is only a distant whisper.


End file.
